Gates of Cilicia bls-1

by Michael G. Thomas

  Teleklos paused for a moment and waved for a group of four soldiers to come to the front. As they moved, Glaucon placed his hand on Xenophon’s arm and leaned in.

  “You sure you want to do this? It’s not like we’re going away for a few days. This could be months of work, and it looks pretty dangerous.”

  “You’re worried it will be dangerous?” answered a bemused Roxana.

  He grimaced at her feigned insult.

  “Of course not. This just isn’t the kind of thing we were looking for. We came out here because there was nowhere else to go. Now we’re talking about joining some mercenary adventure for fame, money and glory. Is that what you want?”

  Xenophon smiled at him.

  “I don’t know about you two, but the sound of a little fame, money and glory has a rather nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  Roxana beamed at them both.

  “I especially like the money bit.”

  Teleklos cleared his throat once again and extended both of his arms so that he drew attention to the soldiers.

  “These are mercenaries, not Laconian soldiers. You’ll note they are wearing some Laconian armour that has been loaned to us by our government. All four of these men have served in border skirmishes with the Alliance. But since their fall, our friends have found work hard to come by. These men have earned decent money in the past and have fought well. This oration will earn each of you ten times what these men were paid to fight against the Alliance. Now, as you have been listening to me, each one of you has had a full and detailed background check performed. As a Laconian led unit, we are not interested in your past, unless you have any known history that could compromise this unit. Two of you have failed these checks, the first because both of you have robbed Laconians installations in the past and second, because you have killed Laconian civilians in previous operations.”

  He pointed towards two men near the front.

  “Both of you, out, now!” he roared.

  Neither of the men hesitated, and in seconds they were out of the door. Teleklos looked back to those that were left and smiled.

  “Now, we are due to leave in three hours, and I believe you are all ready to join my contingent. This is your last opportunity to turn away. Once you board this transport, you are signing yourself up as an official mercenary on Cyrus’ expedition. The commander of your contingent will deduct twenty percent of your earnings to help pay for equipment, weapons and supplies. This is non-negotiable. Those of you that come with us will be properly briefed upon arrival with our ships. It is there that you will be assigned a unit and ship. Some will serve with me, others with Xenias and maybe some with the other Dukas.”

  He stopped and looked about the room, watching each of the new recruits. Xenophon was convinced he spent more time looking at him, even so he said nothing else and continued looking before finally nodding in a self-satisfied manner.

  “Very well, welcome to the Armada.”

  It took a week for the ship to reach the rendezvous with the rest of the Armada. They met at the well-travelled refuelling point at Tarsus. The military transport, their home for the last week, moved in a tight formation with another dozen similar vessels. From inside, they were afforded clear views of the assembled ships. At the centre was the mighty hulk of the Laconian flagship, the Titan LLS Valediction. Dozens of other vessels moved around it, the vast bulk being the heavily armoured assault carrier. These antiquated ships were used by many of the Terran colonies and formed the backbone of all human led military interventions.

  Xenophon, Glaucon and Roxana waited near one of the many viewing points on the ship and gazed at the flotilla. A number of others stood by and watched, including Tamara, the blue-haired girl from the station who had become friendly with their small party. They were all still wearing the clothes they had brought with them, and there had been nothing other than news and shipping information on the journey.

  “So, are you all ready to join the adventure, then? You know we get our first payment at Tarsus, right?”

  “Why Tarsus?” asked Glaucon.

  “That is where Clearchus is waiting. The supply ships will give us our gear plus distribute payment to those going along. Don’t forget, the leader of our unit gets to keep twenty percent.”

  “Suits me,” said Xenophon. “It’s about time we got some money.”

  Another group of three wandered over. Glaucon spoke to them first, and Xenophon joined them. Once busy, Tamara looked over to Roxana to get her attention.

  “You said you’ve done operations like this before?”

  “What do you mean?” she replied.

  “Mercenary work.”

  “Oh, not really. I’ve worked on a few bases, the odd ship. Mainly security jobs, protection, escort, you know the kind of thing. It wasn’t easy finding work after the surrender. People like me were on wanted lists for months,” she said and then stopped. There was something about Tamara that didn’t seem right. “Wait, I thought you’d been doing the same thing?” she asked, a little confused.

  Tamara looked to the ships and said nothing. The others continued talking with the other volunteers. They were talking about weapons, at least that was what it sounded like from where she was stood. Roxana moved to the young woman and stood next to her, trying to appear as friendly as she could around somebody she knew very little about. She waited a little while longer before asking her.

  “What happened to you?”

  There was a short pause before Tamara turned her head slightly. She scratched her forehead before speaking.

  “It’s a long story, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear it.”

  She turned so that the back of her head and her bright blue hair faced Roxana. It seemed her attire was fairly limited. She was still wearing her battered leather jacket and denim clothing. Roxana looked down at her long boots and noticed they were in a much poorer state than she had first thought. From a distance she looked like a tough, dangerous woman, but the closer she stood the more girl-like she became.

  “Look, we’ve all been there. Do you think it was easy for me to leave everybody behind? My family, friends, even my career? I had prospects in the Alliance Fleet, promotion and decades of service ahead of me. Next thing you know, I’m on the first ship out of there and looking for work, just like those two.”

  Tamara looked to Glaucon and Xenophon for a moment. They were both still engrossed in their discussion, but it seemed to be turning into an argument. That, or one of them was just being surprisingly passionate about something as mundane as a sword. She listened for a minute, intrigued by the detail and interest.

  “Look, I’ll agree with you that the body shields are indispensible equipment. But you have to agree that the Laconian use of the shielding is much more efficient,” said Xenophon, the implication being they had already discussed this point.

  “Yeah, but what about the weight? It’s not just the projector. The generator gear adds over twenty kilograms to the equipment carried. It will slow you down, so why bother with the close quarter weapons?”

  Glaucon was watching with a bemused expression on his face. He was certainly bigger and stronger looking than Xenophon, but what he had gained in bulk he lacked in imagination or intellect, at least that was how is seemed to Tamara.

  “I don’t understand. Explain again the difference between Laconian and Alliance soldiers,” asked one of the new arrivals.

  Glaucon raised an eyebrow at the question. Tamara looked at him and back to Xenophon who seemed to relish the question. It seemed he was made to argue, or perhaps he just liked to hear his own voice, she thought.

  “Alliance soldiers had similar armour and weapons to the Laconians. In battle, they would place a number of body shield generators on the ground to provide static defences. This gave them cover from high power weapons, including plasma and pulse rifles. To move, they would have to pack up the gear and take it with them, or leave it behind. This is why Alliance troops often take additional vehicles or
engineers to carry and deploy the generators. The side effect is that Alliance troops need substantial support troops and are slow to move. They are powerful in defence but suffer against more mobile or powerful enemies.”

  “And the Laconians?” asked the man.

  “They train, all of the time. They are physically stronger and fitter than any Terran military. Their heavy infantry carry the shield generators with them, actually on their backs as they fight. They wear the projectors on their arms to create a half shield in front of their bodies. That’s why they can move into close range in battle without sustaining heavy casualties. In their left hand they carry the shield projector, and in the right, they carry the Asgeirr-Carbines.”

  A woman, a short, stocky mercenary wearing a dark grey jumpsuit with an odd bandolier running along her shoulder, snorted at his comments.

  “You’re telling me the Laconians go into battle carrying their shield generators?” They would collapse in an hour.”

  “You obviously haven’t met one before,” said Glaucon.

  “He’s right. If you’d met a Laconian warrior, you would see that they train all the time to carry this heavy equipment and not just carry it. They are expected to be able to fight in hand-to-hand combat with their pulse carbine at the same time.”

  “But why?” asked the first man. “Surely with modern weapons it is smarter to pick off targets at range. Why bother advancing on them with all this heavy equipment, just to use closer range carbines. Why not rifles?”

  Xenophon indicated towards one of the half tables near the window. The group moved towards it and sat down. Tamara watched with interest as Xenophon laid out a number of glasses.

  “Okay, this is the Alliance defensive position. It is a fort, defended by a hundred soldiers. They are all armed with standard issue rifles. At points along the perimeter, the shield generator creates an impenetrable wall from which behind they can fight from. The Laconians arrive and advance on their position. They take heavy fire, but their body shields absorb the damage and allow them to close to point-blank range. That is when they move in and attack with their Asgeirr-Carbines. Have you ever seen them?”

  Tamara smiled to herself, and she understood the point Xenophon was making. The group fell silent, none of them willing to admit they had never actually seen one of these fabled weapons. She strolled towards them and placed her hands on the table.

  “I’ve seen a Asgeirr-Carbine. There was one for sale on the black-market a few months ago. It went for a very high price.”

  “Really? What was it like?” asked the woman.

  “It fits in the fist and lower arm and combines a razor sharp blade and a cut down pulse carbine. The entire unit is compact and very light. Apparently, the range is poor, but it is very powerful, and the blade can punch through most armour.”

  She turned, left them to their discussion and approached Roxana who was still waiting along the glass. She looked out at the ships with her. She had relaxed a little, perhaps partially down to joining in with the conversation, or maybe she had just needed minute or two to think. She looked to the woman.

  “I ran away, a long time ago. I fell in with a group of mercs from Arcadia, a rough bunch. But they did show me how to collect bounty on criminals. I worked with them until last month. Since then I’ve been looking for a new home.”

  Roxana considered her comment for a second.

  “Home? You chose to join a mercenary task force as your new home?”

  Tamara shrugged, almost smiling.

  “At least this is regular money, somewhere to sleep and food and clothing supplied. I was a few days away from having to offer my services to one of the pleasure barges.”

  Roxana shook her head in irritation.

  “Why not go back to your parents?”

  She laughed in response.

  “They don’t care. From when I was little, they sent me away to boarding school. They were never happier than when I was away. I promised I would never go back, not after the last time.”

  “What happened?”

  Tamara shook her head. It was obviously a topic she would not be discussing, not yet anyway. The two looked back to the window and the arrayed ships. They were now much closer and could see the details and weapons fitted to the Laconian Titan. They were interrupted by the sound of the ship-wide sound system.

  “We are approaching the Valediction. Orders from General Clearchus are to bring in all new recruits to one of the assembled Titans for processing and selection. We will be docking with Olympia, the renegade Titan from Arcadia, commanded by Dukas Xenias. He has the largest contingent of warriors in the Armada. In seven minutes please ensure you have all your belongings ready for disembarkation.”

  Xenophon said his goodbyes to the rest of the recruits and headed towards Roxana and Tamara, closely followed by Glaucon who was torn between joining them and gazing at the great shape of the Laconian Titan.

  “We’re going aboard that thing?” he asked rhetorically.

  “Looks that way,” answered Tamara. “What I don’t understand is how they managed to get a Titan in the fleet.”

  Xenophon looked through the window before moving back to Tamara.

  “A Titan? Haven’t you seen the roster? We have four Titans, including one from Laconia.”

  Tamara looked confused.

  “What’s the problem?” asked Roxana.

  “Well, I was under the impression the Titans were some kind of epic ship, the kind of thing no government would lend for somebody else’s operation. Why are the Laconians giving one up?”

  “Good question,” said Xenophon. “Either way, we’d better get ready. You heard what the Arcadians said yesterday about the tests when we get there. Last thing we want is to get stuck with cooking detail.”

  The group moved away from the viewing area and along the corridor. It was wide rather than tall and designed to hide much of the internal ribbing and bulkheads. The ship was almost aesthetically pleasing from the inside, apart from the sections used to stow spare equipment and weapons. Like all other vessels heading to the Armada, this one was carrying both people and supplies. They moved into a larger waiting area where a larger group of recruits waited. There was an obvious distinction between the ex-military and those looking to make a quick bit of cash. It wasn’t just the physical size and fitness levels of the professionals, it was also the way they held themselves. Xenophon and his group entered the waiting area and found a place to sit and strap in.

  Roxana moved next to him on one side and Glaucon and Tamara sat opposite, facing them both. They looked at each other. The journey was ending, and once they reached the Titan, they could expect a new life of training, hard discipline and danger.

  “You ready for this?” asked Roxana.

  Xenophon nodded eagerly.

  “Yes, I think we all need this. My contacts on Attica have come up short, and with no more money, they simply aren’t interested.”

  “What about the information my contacts in the military sent over?” asked Roxana.

  He shook his head.

  “People just aren’t talking. Somehow, Erika Montoya and her cronies have managed to get in with the leadership of the re-instated democracy, and they are hell bent on capturing and trying anybody tied in with the old regime.”

  “It’s worse than that, you heard what happy to Antonia, my friend from the city. Her brother was working for the city security forces. The entire family has been arrested, and somehow he died in custody before he could be tried.”

  Xenophon nodded in agreement.

  “Yeah, convenient pattern. I don’t know about the rest of you, but if I’m going to get anywhere with Montoya, I’m going to need to be prepared, and that is going to cost money.”

  “A lot of money. At some point, we both will want to head back to Attica, and I’m not doing that without a couple of bodyguards.”

  Tamara chortled to herself, apparently not in the slightest bothered that the others could hear her. She looked u
p to see Roxana, Xenophon and Glaucon staring at her with a stoic line of serious faces.

  “What?” she asked innocently.

  “You think our situation is funny?” asked Xenophon.

  Tamara straightened her back and was about to speak but was interrupted by the loudspeakers.

  “Docking procedure started, please remain in your seats,” said the dull voice. Tamara looked back at them, each awaiting her answer.

  “Look, I thought your world was supposed to be this glowing beacon of democracy and tranquillity. Hell, half the people I know keep telling me how they wish the Alliance would be reformed as it was. They are all desperate to reconnect with the old mother country.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not like that anymore,” said Glaucon bitterly.

  Xenophon, however, leaned forward.

  “Tamara, they might think that, but in reality, Attica was never a place of tranquillity. Democracy can be dangerous, and our form put a lot of power into the hands of the citizens. They are fickle and volatile, quick to anger and vicious when pushed.”

  Tamara nodded, noting the passion with which both men spoke. It was clear the trouble on Attica were more than just a simple, local problem. Neither really wanted to be on the transport, and it was just as likely they had no real interest in being mercenaries.